Sometimes
by thesurreal
Summary: Because sometimes, she does know.


**Authors Note: Oneshot. Slightly OC. I do not own Ghost Hunt, or it's characters. WARNING: character death.**

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Summary: Because sometimes, she does know.

He hears them coming. The sound is lasting, epic in its ferocity, the slavering sound of misery, rusted and broken and turning, turning to gnash tooth against tooth, gaping jaws closing in from all sides. He stands in a forest of suicide trees, blindsighted by the swirling smoke that covers him like a shroud. Their screams rage louder and louder as they come, roars that fill his head, rake at his spine and twist his insides.

He digs at his scalp, trying anything to block out the noises, the echoing of their baleful cries. But they're calling down their hunt, calling for flesh and soul. They're always coming, and this time, their locked onto his scent. The smell of blood and sweat is violent in the air, clogging his nostrils and making him nauscious. They are methodic, lost somewhere between the shadow and light. And in theory, they can never touch him, never. But as their breath sears across his skin, scorching and blistering his arms until he's thinking otherwise. Just kill him, he whispers. Just let it end. Bring on some fang and claw to fall into him and turn him inside out. Anything to appease them.

_Murderer...._

The ground trembles, resonates from earth to hell as he makes a run from the screams, chased down the miles, until they become a howl of wind and crashing waves in his skull. A white noise storms and he grabs at his head more desperatly, palms over ears trying to stop it.

_....Murderer! MURDERER!_

Once he thinks he sees a hint of them, just at the edge of his vision. If they are to look like his worst fears then it's fitting he sees the thrashing of angel's wings. He tastes the sweat on his toungue, and knows he can't run anymore. Black hair mops around his face, thrashing him and making it even harder to see. He staggers, slowly feeling himself grow colder, his fists becomming tighter, his own teeth gnashing. He knows he will turn and face them with eyes searing dark fire and a howl loud enough to match. He knows they will take him, knows they come closer and closer to dragging him away, pulling him under with no hope of salvation. And on that night, he wishes he would've never come looking for his brother in the first place.

"Naru?"

Among all things, Naru was most accustomed to grief. The unforseeable pain that racked a body with tremors, brought it down to it's knees. He wreaked of it, made it a physical air. His dark hair cascaded over his eyes in a timeless embrace, forcing him to gaze onward at something unknown, something unattainable. It was how he'd _wanted_ things to be. What he deserved.

God, he _was _a murderer.

"Naru!"

His shoulders rolled, catching the scream. His body sifted under the racking chants and what the new voice offered. His eyes rolled awkwardly beneath closed lids, body thumping to the ground with a sickening echo. He could see the sky light up and the ground explode. His sides were locked in, he could... almost envision himself, breathing for the last time.

It's at this part, he feels arms embrace him. Shield him from the darkness, shield him from the screams. Something gooey leaks from his lips, trickling over his chin, trickling, onto his neck. He hurts so much, it makes his body that much more sensitive. It makes it harder to focus. It makes it harder to be here at all.

Mai is screaming at him from overhead. So close, but worlds away.

Naru sighs, letting the air float from his lungs as he buries his face into her blouse, terrified of the invisible scars she'll see, of all that remains. He's worms and bone, he thinks, screaming to be put down like a dog. He traces languid shapes in his mind, just because it takes his mind off of the screaming, the terror, and because if he doesn't do something, he'd only imagine the things that would happen to him.

"....en to me!"

Words broach his lips, ready to become vocal. But just as they part, he finds nothing but another scream filling his head. It takes a moment, but he realizes it's his own. His skull is throbbing, his body convulsing, trying to keep the lurkers away. Away from his Mai, away from him. He wants it all to get better for a moment, wants to see her smiling face again. Wants to find his brother...

_MURDERER! MURDERER!_

He shudders, clinging to Mai as if she were a lifeline, a set of delicate lips creasing his brow as she sobs, the sound vibrating off of him like a blast of heat. It's scorching him. Burning him. Twisting. He's fading, they both know that.

But only one of them really wants it to be over.

_I'm sorry, _he wants to say. _I wish I could've been all that you deserved._

And in that moment, she knows. Not because she's always known; and not because she understands there's no real danger lurking nearby to whisk away his soul. But because sometimes, she just does. And when his body goes limp and his chin raises toward the sky in a blank wonder, she whispers the words back to him. Because he deserves to know it, too.

"I love you."


End file.
